


In the Gardens at Mena House

by tinydooms



Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Series
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, Date Night, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fools in Love, PTSD, Trauma, World War I, learning to live again post-war, talking about PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29938335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinydooms/pseuds/tinydooms
Summary: Evie was reminded of his allusions to an emotional breakdown of some kind. She still didn’t know the story, only that it had led to his arrest for brawling and ultimately to his aborted hanging at Cairo Prison after failing to pay the bribe and then telling Warden Hassan to do something unspeakable to a goat. It hadn’t seemed right, sitting up on the top of the Great Pyramid, eating a small picnic and talking about ancient history, to ask him about it. Not then, on that bright sunny morning when both of them were enjoying themselves, teasing each other lightly about camel races and being appropriately dressed for this kind of adventure.Rick O'Connell bares his soul.
Relationships: Evy Carnahan O'Connell/Rick O'Connell
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	In the Gardens at Mena House

**In the Gardens at Mena House**

_Cairo, November 1922_

Evie sat at the bar in Mena House, a martini in hand, eating olives while she waited for Rick. Her skirt fell in graceful folds about her chair; the attendant had ironed it while she and Rick were out at the Pyramids. It was an unexpected, unasked for kindness, the latest in a long day of unexpected kindnesses, and Evie was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the responsibility for it lay directly on the broad shoulders of Rick O’Connell. 

He had asked her, half-mockingly, the other day at the library if she had ever been out to the Pyramids, and Evie had had to admit that she had not been as a tourist since she was a little girl. 

“Mum and Father were interested in them for archaeological purposes, of course, but they felt that the site was more and more overrun by tourists, so after a while we stopped visiting,” she explained, and Rick had grinned. 

“They were right,” he replied. “I can’t tell you how many inappropriately-dressed people I’ve boosted up the damn things. Still, they’re great to go to, especially with someone who actually knows about them.” 

He had given her such an expectant look that Evie had laughed and asked if he were asking her out. 

“Well, that depends,” Rick had said. “Are you accepting?”

So they had driven out to the Pyramids that bright morning, after deciding that a day out followed by a nice dinner and dancing was just the thing for an engaged but still courting couple to do. They had each packed a change of clothing, to be left at the Mena House cloakroom while they were out, and so it was there that Evie had received her first inkling that she was stepping into Rick’s world. Both the valet who took their car and the cloakroom attendant who took their bags greeted him with affection and good humor, and looked Evie over in no small amount of surprise. Neither had commented on her, but the valet had ordered a driver to take them out to the Pyramids and her evening dress was pressed when she came back. 

At the Pyramids themselves, too, Evie had experienced a strange new reality. First the camel men had greeted Rick with roars, speaking with Rick with banter born of familiarity, and when presented with Evie had looked at him in amused surprise.

“We did not know you had come back,” one man said. “Forgive us, madame; O’Connell effendi is an excellent guide.”

“I know,” Evie said. “Though we are here for fun today.”

“I’m not really back,” Rick had added. “Not today, I mean. I’m not sure...Well, can we take a ride, anyway?”

And the camel man, Abdul, had handed over his camel to them and waved as they mounted up and rode off. 

“Don’t they usually lead the camel?” Evie asked. 

“Usually,” Rick replied. “But Adbul and I go way back; I worked for his family when I was a teenager.”

“I see.”

And so it had gone, all day. Rick simply knew _everybody_ , and he was greeted with affection and goodwill by the Egyptian men working around the Pyramids. That they all assumed she was simply a tourist Rick was guiding around amused Evie; after all, hadn’t he been a dragoman before? 

“You didn’t tell me you have a whole history here,” Evie said as their helper up the Great Pyramid, a man called Mohammed, boosted her up into Rick’s arms. He grinned as he caught her hands and swung her up alongside him on the huge rock. 

“I haven’t been here for a while,” he said. “But yeah, I used to lead tours, remember?”

“You haven’t given me the details,” Evie replied, planing a boot in his hands and scrambling up the next stone. 

Rick had made a face, and Evie was reminded of his allusions to an emotional breakdown of some kind. She still didn’t know the story, only that it had led to his arrest for brawling and ultimately to his aborted hanging at Cairo Prison after failing to pay the bribe and then telling Warden Hassan to do something unspeakable to a goat. It hadn’t seemed right, sitting up on the top of the Great Pyramid, eating a small picnic and talking about ancient history, to ask him about it. Not then, on that bright sunny morning when both of them were enjoying themselves, teasing each other lightly about camel races and being appropriately dressed for this kind of adventure. 

In fact, it hadn’t felt appropriate to Evie to bring up at all that day, not as they stood at the top of the pyramid, nor when they were climbing around inside. That she had forgotten everything in her Egyptological fervor had helped; she was so busy explaining to Rick the purpose of each part of the complex that the mystery of why Rick had left a job that he was clearly good at and seemed to have enjoyed fell entirely to the wayside. But the curiosity came back when they finally returned, hot and sweaty, to Mena House, and parted company to get changed, and Evie found herself being looked after by a French bathroom attendant who had set aside a corner vanity table for her special use “as Mr. O’Connell’s special friend”. 

“Rick is very well-known here,” Evie remarked to the woman, who smiled. 

“Yes, Mr. O’Connell is a great favorite among the staff,” she said. “He is dependable, a good man. We were all sorry when he decided to quit touring.”

Evie changed out of her dusty jodhpurs and shirt, washed and made up her face, unbounded and brushed and repinned her hair, and pondered that statement. She glanced down at the ring on her finger, still so new, a simple gold band with a tiny square diamond in the center, bought for her by Rick with some of his Hamunaptra money. She knew...most of his story? Yes, most of it, though he had stopped at “and then Winston lent me some money and I moved into a boarding house and got a job as a dragoman”. Today, Evie felt, had been about going out on a nice date, about having fun together, but she wondered if there was some part of Rick that wanted her to ask about the way everyone knew him, about the time he had fallen apart. 

And now here she was at the bar, eating olives and drinking a martini, waiting for him to emerge from the cloakroom. 

“Another martini, miss?” the bartender asked. 

“No, thank you,” Evie replied, “but I’ll have some more olives, if you please.”

“Right-o.” 

He turned away and Evie couldn’t help but add, “You’re an American.”

“Don’t hold it against me,” the bartender replied cheerfully. “I came over here during the War and liked it so much I’ve stayed.”

“My fiance, as well,” Evie said. “Actually, he moved here before the War, but he still sounds American. He’s from Chicago.”

“Great city. Cold.” The man smiled at her and handed over another little dish of olives. “There you are, fresh from our own trees. I hope your fiance hasn’t left you hanging?”

Evie smiled back at him. “No, he’s just in the cloakroom, changing. We’ve been out at the Pyramids all day.”

“Then you don’t want a second cocktail until you’ve had dinner,” the bartender agreed. “Great place, the Pyramids, but folks are always starving when they get back.” He looked past Evie, over her shoulder, and his face changed into a delighted grin. “O’Connell! Where the h-where have you been?”

Evie turned to see Rick ambling towards the bar, a bashful grin on his face, looking gorgeous in the evening suit Jonathan had helped him to buy. 

“Hey, Joe,” he said, reaching out to shake the bartender’s hand. “How’ve you been?”

“Well, thanks, and you? Hell’s bells, O’Connell, last time I saw you you were hiding under a bed. You’re looking ten times better. Are you back?”

“Kind of,” Rick said, glancing over at Evie. “I’m here for dinner with my girl.”

Joe looked from Rick to Evie, amazement dawning on his face. “Wait--is _this_ your girl? That’s not a girl, O’Connell, that’s a lady!”

“I know,” Rick replied, and looked at Evie with such pride and affection that she blushed and laughed.

“I might have known you two would know each other. Rick has known everyone today.”

“No kidding,” Joe replied. “Jes--Geeze louise, O’Connell, you disappear for a year and come back engaged to this beautiful lady. What’ve you been doing?”

“Oh, you know,” Rick said. He looked embarrassed and Evie took pity on him. 

“He led a tour I organized and I liked him so well, I asked him to stay,” she said, hoping as the words came out that she wasn’t offending Rick’s masculine sensibility. But the look he gave her was grateful. Joe looked impressed. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “We were worried about you, you know. I went round to your old place after you quit on us, but the landlord said you’d gone. Come round for drinks sometimes and catch up.”

“I will,” Rick said. “It’s good to see you, Joe.”

“You, too.” 

“You have so many friends,” Evie remarked as she took Rick’s arm and they walked through to the dining room. “Did you used to work here?”

“No,” Rick replied, “not here, but I was around a lot. The company that I worked for, their tours usually ended at Mena House, so I got to know everyone here real well.”

Indeed, the maitre d’ recognized Rick and so gave them a good table, and sent a bottle of excellent wine of pre-War vintage to their table “as congratulations for your engagement and a toast to your good health”. 

“If I’d known we would be getting special treatment, I’d have made you bring me here sooner,” Evie teased as they ate. 

Rick gave her a sheepish look. “I didn’t even think about it, honestly. I haven’t been here since I--well, since I had my breakdown.”

It was not the first time Rick had mentioned it to her, but this time there was an openness to his voice and demeanor, not the diffidence that usually overcame him when he talked about his battle fatigue. An explanation was forthcoming, Evie could feel it, and as they rose from their seats after an excellent dinner, Rick took her hand and tugged her towards the veranda. 

“Let’s take a walk, yeah? Just for a bit.”

Evie squeezed his hand. “Of course.”

Outside the heat of the day still lingered, but a cool breeze came in from the desert, promising a chilly night. Evie followed Rick down into the well-lit gardens and out onto the paths, where they could talk without being overheard. Rick was quiet, gathering his thoughts. He knew that he owed it to Evie to be completely honest about everything: she had saved his life in more ways than she realized, given him a home and a family when he had nothing to give in return. He just didn’t know how to begin. 

As if she were reading his thoughts, Evie said, “You know you have nothing to be afraid of when you talk to me, don’t you? I’m not going to be horrified by you.”

“I know,” Rick said, thinking of the times they had held each other after nightmares awoke them. “It’s just not something I’ve ever talked about before, I guess, and I’ve tried not to think about it too deeply, either.” 

He looked over at Evie; her face was open, receptive. “I’m not going to fall apart again. That’s over now.”

“You’re not alone anymore,” Evie agreed. “Being alone didn’t help, I’m sure.”

“It definitely didn’t.” Rick took a deep breath. “What happened wasn’t...actually I’m not sure if it wasn’t some kind of battle fatigue thing. There were pamphlets put out about it and I read some of them, but they didn’t really help…”

Evie squeezed his hand. “I read them, too, when Jonathan came back from the War. How he reacted to it all is his own story to tell, but I can tell you that he was a mess for a long time, and he’s never been the same. I don’t think any of you men came back the same.”

“Definitely not.” Rick paused again, leading her over to a nearby bench. “You can’t, after you see what we saw. I don’t need to tell you that. I was at Gallipoli, you know, from the first day of the campaign, and every single moment was my last that entire year. I still don’t know how I survived any of it, and then I was just suddenly thrown back into civilian life and I tried not to think about it at all, ever. I put it in a box in my head, like a packing crate, and locked it in and just tried to go forward. I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea.”

“You had to cope with it somehow,” Evie said. “Jonathan does the same. I do think it would be better for all of you to talk about it.”

Rick gave her a bleak smile. “Wouldn’t that be nice? If there was a way for soldiers to talk about the War without everyone thinking we’re cowards? We’re not cowards, but it’s not something you can talk about without people thinking so.”

“Rick.” Evie leaned forward and touched his face. “What happened to you? Tell me. I won’t go away.”

Rick looked at her, this girl he loved who had faced down a monster, who had never lost her head in a fight, who had been through so much. He knew that she was telling the truth. 

“After my garrison got butchered at Hamunaptra, I walked back to Cairo. Somehow I got the flu, the Spanish flu, real bad, and I ended up at Winston Havelock’s airfield. He took care of me until I got better, got me sorted out with the Legion and everything so that I could be my own man again, and he got me a job with some people he knew, working as a dragoman. I have my army pension, but it hadn’t kicked in yet, and anyway, I liked the work. I’d be assigned a group of tourists and would meet them at Shepheard’s and take them all over, handle all of the travel details and stuff. I was good at it.”

“I know. I saw that right away on our own trip,” Evie replied. “You always had everything under control, even when the boat went down.”

Rick grinned a little. “It was my job; you hired me. And I’m grateful; I needed to be snapped out of it.”

“You call being almost hanged ‘snapped out of it’?” Evie raised her eyebrows. 

Rick shrugged. “It worked, though.” He looked down at her hand, wrapped around his. “So, anyway, how those trips worked was that we’d start in Cairo and sail up to Luxor or Aswan, then cruise slowly back downriver while hitting all of the tourist sites. We’d visit the Pyramids last of all and I’d farewell the group at Mena House. It was routine.

“Well, it all went fine for the first two years; I lived in a pretty decent boarding house between gigs and I managed to not think about the War most of the time. So my last tour went like clockwork: Cairo to Luxor, tour the Valley of the Kings and Deir el-Bahri and Dendera, all those places. We sailed back down to Cairo and disembarked in Giza, came out here to the Pyramids, took everybody on camel rides and inside and all that. It was a good group, about twenty people altogether; a couple of old folks, some army veterans and their families, a couple of kids. Lively, but fun. 

“Well, we got back to Mena House, finally, and everyone was resting up, lounging around. I had to make sure everyone was settled before I could go have a rest myself, so I was walking all over checking on everybody and...and I found some of the kids in the garden, playing War.”

“Oh,” said Evie. 

Rick nodded. “They were using sticks and things as guns, going _bang, bang, you’re dead!_ just like that, and laughing, like kids do. And I just froze; I couldn’t believe it, and then one of the little girls got ‘shot’ by one of the boys, but she wasn’t having it. She stood up and yelled that she didn’t want to die, and _‘how come I have to die, but you get to live?_ ’”

Evie gasped. Rick looked up at her and away again, trying to swallow around his suddenly tight throat. 

“That’s the thing about war, you see; you don’t get to choose who lives and who dies, and it _isn’t fair_. I watched so many guys die, young guys who had homes and families and futures, and they didn’t want to go, Evie, nobody wanted to die, and hearing that little girl say that, I--” Rick pulled in a deep breath. “It was like a hole had opened up at my feet and I was falling. One of the veterans came out and started shouting at them, but I just went upstairs and hid under my bed. I don’t know how I got through the rest of the tour, but afterwards I took a leave of absence to try to pull myself together. And I couldn’t; it just got worse and worse, until all I could do was sleep all day and drink all night. All I could hear were the screams at Gallipoli, at Hamunaptra; I could see the faces of the guys who died there, crying for their mothers. I held them, you know; we always tried to comfort the dying; and none of us should have been there--and, and if anyone had died, it should have been me; I didn’t have anyone to go home to. It should have been me.”

Rick looked out, unseeing, over the gardens, trying to swallow. His throat had closed, so tight it hurt, and hot tears pricked at his eyes. Beside him, Evie’s dress rustled as she shifted closer. She put her arms around him, pulling him close to her, and Rick turned and put his face in her neck, shaking. He had never told anyone before how guilty he felt for living. “I am _so glad_ ,” Evie murmured, her voice thick, “that you are alive, Rick O’Connell. I am _so glad_ that I have you at my side.”

Rick breathed in the scent of Evie’s skin, her rose and amber perfume. She held him with warm, firm arms. For a long time they just sat there, not talking, as the wind rustled the trees around them. Finally Rick straightened and scrubbed at his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

Evie kissed his cheek. “There is no shame in it, you hear me? You mustn’t feel ashamed.”

“I know,” Rick whispered. “I kinda do, though.”

“I know.” Evie nestled into his side, unwilling to let him go just yet. 

Rick relaxed against her, resting his head against hers. “So that’s how I ended up at the bar where Jonathan stole the key from me.”

“I’m glad that he did,” Evie said. “God, Rick. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, and I’m not going to insult you by saying you were saved for a reason, but I’m so glad we found each other, and that we’re going to spend our lives together.”

Rick dropped a kiss onto her hair. It felt as though some poison had been drained from him. “We’re going to get married and go excavating and have kids and get up to mischief, right?”

Evie smiled. “Yes, my darling, to all of those things. We are going to live for all of the men who can’t. You are loved, and not only by me. And you will never be alone again, you hear me?”

“Yes,” Rick murmured. “Yes.”

Author's Note: I've been thinking about this one for a while, and alluding to it in various other fics, but today I finally sat down and wrote it all out. I wanted to treat it gently, since the kind of thing that happened to Rick certainly happens to other people and I don't want anyone to think I'm making light of the trauma that surrounds war. "My" Rick isn't miraculously healed just because he fell in love with and married Evie; his war trauma is something he carries all of his life, and I wanted to explore him dealing with it with her. It's movie canon that Evie's intervention gave him a second chance at life, but how he got there? Well, I hope this answers the question. Thank you for reading! 


End file.
